


for the first time in my life, I can’t fly

by PeopleInThatBackRoom



Category: Disney - All Media Types, Peter Pan (1953)
Genre: Angst, Community: disney_kink, M/M, Rape, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sexual Abuse, Trauma, Underage Rape/Non-con, Violence, de-anon, disney kink meme, this is depressing and dark and I'm sorry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-30
Updated: 2018-10-30
Packaged: 2019-08-09 20:12:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16456460
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PeopleInThatBackRoom/pseuds/PeopleInThatBackRoom
Summary: He never did get what Tink meant when she said everything’s fun and games until someone got hurt.





	for the first time in my life, I can’t fly

He never did get what Tink meant when she said everything’s fun and games until someone got hurt. Usually if he and other lost boys made mischief among each other or went on adventures throughout Neverland everyone turned out alright, just as chipper, cheerful and hungry for adventure as any could be. Sure there were a few tumbles here and there, a few close calls, tears—not from Peter of course—but overall the mood stayed cheerful, and no matter how bleak or complicated the situation became, every boy found it in him to keep flying, their heads filled with hopes of many more adventures to come.   
  
However, every time without fail, she would animatedly fly back and forth, her speech and emotions quickly switching from worry to anger—as quick as a _fairy_ could switch their emotions anyhow—and every time Peter would laugh, smile brightly at her and say, “aw, lighten up, Tink,” before joining the other boys in whatever they were getting up to at the moment. Tink would fume for a little, but even the good spirits of the adventure and the boys would get to her and they’d all be dancing ‘round the fire, treasure and sticks and food tossed about as they shouted as loud as they could, feet slightly lifting off the ground after a bit because they could no longer contain their happiness to it.   
  
Even Wendy, John and Michael, who despite being new to everything and not at all well at flying, would be hovering over the land, steady and beaming from ear to ear, the happiest thoughts keeping them afloat just as well as any lost boy.   
  
An eternal happiness, gluing them together, keeping everyone flying.   
  
That was the way it always was. That was the way it should be.   
  
And now, it wasn’t.   
  
For the past couple of hours that he had been on his own, it hadn’t.   
  
He supposed it started when he got caught by the pirates. Nothing good ever came from getting caught, especially by the grouchy, old pirates but Peter was the best escapee there ever was so finding himself “un-caught” would be a breeze, even more so since it was those windbags.   
  
Except, it wasn’t and he found himself tied and brought before the dreaded Captain Hook himself, but that was alright, he wasn’t worried—who would be when you knew you had the upperhand? Besides, this had happened so many times by now that he and the other lost boys were thinking of a way to turn it into a game. One that would no doubt, make the pirates dizzy and Tink annoyed but ultimately ready to go along with any mischief planned. He would bid his time for an opening, help the pirates exercise their jiggling, creaky legs by flying around a bit, make faces then leave. Things would look up soon enough.   
  
Soon enough never came, though. He was carried off kicking and squirming to Hook’s room—he remembered it well from the time he had the sneak around it to find a magic jewel they had taken from some mermaids—gagged—he did manage to bite the pirate as he was, though the backhanded slap he received after wasn’t something he was particularly fond of—and tied by his neck to one of the heavier objects in the room as a way of keeping him down. That was okay. He didn’t need his mouth or flying to outsmart this crusty old pirates. Everything would be fine.  
  
In came Captain Hook himself, and slowly everything wasn’t fine.   
  
With his remaining hand he slapped Peter across the face. Then again, and more until Peter could no longer keep from making a noise of pain. It was quiet, almost non-audible, but apparently, it was enough for Hook. Peter was bruising and suffered whiplash from having his face whacked sharply from one side to the other but he hadn’t given up yet. What was an adventure without a few scars to save the memory? Hook would get clumsy and worn out just as quickly as he’s started. Then, Peter would make his move. Everything would be all good and fun so fast that it would be a different type of whiplash altogether that he would be experiencing.   
  
But everything wasn’t good.  
  
Though the pirate captain was breathing hard now, Hook tugged Peter by his hair with a brutal, unyielding strength, choking him a little as he forced his head down, giving Peter no choice but to shift his crossed-legged position for one on his knees in an effort not to be pushed flat into the floor by his face. Hook contorted Peter’s body further, pushing his back down with his face, and for reasons unknown to him, raising his butt higher in the process. Then he felt the pirate’s hooked-hand gliding over his back and for the first time in this whole adventure, he felt afraid.   
  
Not enough to dim his thoughts on coming out of this with the upperhand and then some, but a little speck of worry that had him wondering just what was going wrong this time. That, and what exactly was about to happen to him? What even was Hook planning?   
  
In two precise strokes, his clothes were ripped straight down the center from behind, his back and butt now exposed. Hook still hadn’t said a word, only breathed and occasionally panted. Since the moment he had torn Peter’s clothes, however, he hadn’t made a single noise. Peter didn’t say anything either, just kept his eyes gazing around the area for something to get him out of the situation he was in, though with every stroke of the hook on his back his vision became blurrier for some reason—almost as if he was about to cry, which would be silly. Nothing was wrong. Nothing, nothing, nothing at all. He wasn’t really hurt; everything was fine, everything was fine, everything was fine, everything was—  
  
The muffled scream that ripped through his body when he felt something force it’s way through the small hole between his buttocks wasn’t. Nor were the struggling he attempted at as soon as it happened, nor the way the pirate captain put his hooked hand up to Peter’s neck, daring him to move and get a hook punctured into his neck—getting another hole filled with blood for his troubles—nor the tears and sobs he didn’t know had welled up within him and were now being pushed out with every thrust in and out his butt. And yet—yet, Peter couldn’t completely abandon the idea something would turn up. He couldn’t. He refused.  
  
And that seemed to spur Hook on even further, if anything. The pirate kept at it, stabbing Peter from the inside with his dick until the boy could no longer fight back, no longer cry or shake or sob, only lean his body against his head on the floor and try not to choke and breath.   
  
It was not too long after, that Peter felt a sticky substance being dumped into his body. It was then he heard Hook’s trousers being pulled up, and the pirate’s panting beginning to cease once again. The rope around his neck was untied and the ones around his hands and legs also undone, much to his surprise. The gag was yanked down and uselessly hung by his neck, and neither he nor Hook made any movement to change its positioning. He attempted to crawl up into a ball with his last bit of strength but after releasing his bonds, Hook tossed him over his shoulder and took them to the deck.   
  
Peter could hear the pirates jeer at him, could feel their callous gazes on his exposed, bruised body, but felt too weak to do anything other than close his eyes and kept his head down, barely clamping down on the tiniest sliver of hope that it was over, the adventure was over and he could go home, he could go home to the lost boys and Tink and Wendy, John and Michael—please, could he go home now! Please.  
  
Hook didn’t say much apart from ordering that the ship be taken to land. No one questioned his order and soon enough, they were docked against land. Hook carried him off the ship and he and two other pirates walked for a bit in the forest before dumping Peter to the ground. He was too weak to stop himself from wincing at being placed down, but at this noise, Hook only paused momentarily before he and the other two pirates took their leave.   
  
And, after a bit, Peter was entirely alone.   
  
He was completely still for the longest time, curled up and not even daring to process what just happened or why, no, he only laid there, aching and sore and hearing Tink’s words in his head. Over and over. _Everything’s fun and games until someone gets hurt._  
  
He believed her now. He was hurt—more than hurt actually, far worse—but he didn’t know what to do about it. How to toss the pain and fear to the side and find a sense of happiness right now. He didn’t know—he didn’t know anything! An-and that’s why, that must be why he’s like this! Right? It’s got to be. Maybe thirteen years wasn’t a long enough time to know a lot. Maybe he wasn’t strong enough, quick enough, clever enough, right? He’ll get better though, better than before, much much much b—  
  
His thoughts were jerk from the front out his mind by the series of sobs that overtook him.   
  
What if he couldn’t? If he was stuck this way? If he could never shake off the suffocating yoke always remembering this pain, always feeling the marks left, always remembering the feeling of being ripped apart and plunged and filled, never fully recovering.   
  
What if....  
  
Peter’s shaking grew weaker, weaker still until his body no longer had the energy to continue. His eyes closed, and he fell into a restless, pained, sobbing sleep.   
  
When he awoke, the sun had lowered from the sky significantly. Despite his broken, aching state, that got him up immediately. With the little strength he recovered, he began limping through the forest towards the direction of the setting sun—his compass to the camp.   
  
He felt empty, as if something was taken from him, but he couldn’t place what it was. He kept walking, pausing momentarily every once and a while to lessen the pain, if only a little, home, the one thing on his mind.   
  
During one of his brief breaks from walking he found just what was taken from him. He was leaning against a tree stump when suddenly, a bird soaring above the forest entered his sights. Immediately, he made to set after the bird, chase it a bit until he got bored but instead of lifting, his body stayed firmly planted on the ground, dead weight against the air.   
  
He tried again, but it ended in the same result. Again. Again. Again. Again until his breathing was heavy, his fists clenched and the last sliver of hope grounded to dust to be carried out on the breeze.  
  
He couldn’t fly.   
  
He almost wanted to cry all over again.   
  
He guessed....he guessed he would have to walk back to camp.   
  
++++  
  
“Peter’s back!” John heard one of the lost boys up in the tree yell. Being in a tree himself, he only had to look up from the book he had been reading to confirm that Peter was, indeed, back. Though, something was off about him. He couldn’t exactly place it, but he looked very similar to how Mum had looked when she told them Gran had died some years ago. Like she had been through a ghost town.   
  
Perhaps Peter was playing a trick on everyone, was his brain’s immediate response, but all the same, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Whatever it was, he knew Wendy could probably find out.   
  
He slipped out of the tree, cupped his hands to his mouth and shouted, “Wendy, Michael, Peter’s back!”   
  
Wendy, Michael, and all the lost boys that had apparently been with them, came out from the camouflaged hideout they called home and together, they and John met up with the other lost boys and Tinkerbell to greet Peter.   
  
However, as John had suspected before, something was very, very wrong.   
  
No one said a word as Wendy approached their carefree, fearless leader—not even Tinkerbell, who looked paralyzed in a mixed state of confusion and horror—and gently took his hands into hers.   
  
“Peter,” Wendy said quietly, her voice all worry and concern and horror and fear—he hated fear. Peter hated it. He hated it! He hated it! “are you alright?” And Peter found he could only croak out one reply.   
  
“For the first time in my life, I can’t fly.”   
  
And he began to sob.

**Author's Note:**

> so yeah instead of adding another part to the series I'm working on like a good writer I was on the kink meme, saw someone's request and ended up writing this. Yup.
> 
> I was in a pretty depressing state when I wrote this mess. Like really awful, shitty, "please let me curl up and hide" state, and it's pretty much reflected in this fic--so idk if you already felt bad reading this just know that I felt bad while writing this, ha. My emo-ass self is better now, and will be updating my other shit.......uh, um, uh be-before Christmas??? (At least I hope so lol). 
> 
> Here's a link to the original request: https://disney-kink.dreamwidth.org/3291.html?thread=7878107
> 
> (also I definitely took the beautiful grammar of the requester anon's prompt "For the first time in my life, I can't fly" and just wrecked it into an angsty lofi title, because sorry, yes, I am that emo.)


End file.
